


Oblivion

by aelfcore



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Crying, Doctor/Patient, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Indulgent, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelfcore/pseuds/aelfcore
Summary: He wasn’t stupid; he knew what was happening. He’d heard the whispers around the facility about the doctors who liked them young.
Relationships: Marcelo Jimenez/Leslie Withers
Kudos: 9





	Oblivion

Leslie was facedown on his bed, trembling and biting the pillow as Marcelo ran his hands over his bare ass, parting him and running his fingers over his hole.

He tried not to cry. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what was happening. He’d heard the whispers around the facility about the doctors who liked them young.

Marcelo pushed his thumb inside him, eased by surgical lubricant, and Leslie's body clenched and seized, trying to stop the intrusion to no avail.

“Calm down and enjoy it, Leslie,” he said, softly, kneading Leslie’s ass with his free hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Leslie didn’t believe him. He cried silently, shaking, as more fingers were pushed into him, spreading him apart like a whore, like an object to be examined.

Marcelo’s fingers hit his prostate and he jumped, a surprised whine muffled against the pillows. Marcelo did it again, and Leslie gasped and wriggled, his cock twitching. 

“No,” he whimpered, breath quickening. “No, no—“

His voice broke when pressure was put on his prostate again, and again, and again, and soon Marcelo’s pace was brutal, ramming his fingers into Leslie’s sweet spot until his eyes rolled back into his skull and he came, a sticky mess between his stomach and the sheets. It felt so good that it was scary, so overwhelming and engulfing that it made Leslie sob, his body shaking with such intense pleasure. He would’ve screamed if he’d had his wits about him.

Marcelo removed his fingers, jerked Leslie’s hips up, and impaled him with his cock before Leslie could gather himself, and the burn of the stretch and sudden stimulation made him piss himself, soaking the sheets below him. The entrance was bearable with the lubricant, but not pleasurable at all, and when Marcelo started a less than gentle pace, all Leslie could do was grab onto the sheets and pretend he was somewhere else.

His breathing was unsteady, his body still overly sensitive from his involuntary orgasm, and the constant pounding on his prostate would’ve made him piss again if his bladder wasn’t already emptied. He didn’t want this. He wanted this to stop.

He was repeating, “No, no, no,” and “Stop, please stop,” over and over, but his cock still got hard, still ached between his legs and begged to be touched.

The oversensitivity slowly went away, and the pain was replaced with an overbearing pleasure. Marcelo had said to try to enjoy it. Maybe he was right; he was the doctor after all. 

Leslie reached between his legs, ghosting his fingers over the tip of his cock with a gasp, not even noticing when he started rocking against Marcelo’s thrusts. 

“Yes, that’s a good boy, Leslie.”

Despite himself, Leslie smiled dumbly at the words. Yes. Yes, he was a good boy. He could be a good boy. 

He grabbed his cock, but Marcelo took his hand away, pinning it to the mattress as he pounded him, fucking lewd whines from his lungs. 

Leslie was trying to say his name, more to ground himself that anything, but all that came out were slurred hums and moans. His tongue felt thick and heavy, like his mind, thick strings of drool dripping down his chin, and he couldn’t focus his eyes no matter how hard he tried. He felt like his brain was short-circuiting; all he could think about was the cock pounding him into the mattress so hard that he surely would have bruises the next day. 

“So pretty, Leslie. Such a good boy.”

He tried to look at Marcelo, but he couldn’t find the energy to lift his head. He caught the look on his face from his peripheral, looking down at him like he was a meal ready to be devoured. Maybe he was. He sure felt like he was.

He came again, dry, and it hurt, it hurt so bad but felt so fucking good, and it had Leslie grabbing and pulling at his own hair to keep himself from passing out from it all.

By the time Marcelo finished he was a babbling, drooling mess, twitching in his own piss and cum.

Marcelo tidied himself and got off the bed. Leslie, head in the clouds, reached his hand out to grab onto the sleeve of Marcelo’s shirt before he could walk away.

“More,” he said, though it was barely a whisper. He was grinding his hips down onto the mattress, cock still hard and throbbing. “Please, more.”

Marcelo looked at him for a long moment before taking Leslie’s outstretched hand in his own and kissing it.

“I’ll come by in the morning, Leslie.”

He turned to leave, paused, and looked back at the mess of a man on the bed. Despite it all, he felt bad leaving him in a puddle of his own mess.

“Maybe we should get you a shower first.”

Leslie smiled, and giggled to himself.


End file.
